EditorSpeak

“Studios as Safe Spaces” by Tamsin Nutter: ﻿No teacher can fix the world for her kids. Still, we adults owe it to children to be our best selves for them, and with them. We owe them love and safety. We owe them our protection.

“﻿Inherent Value” by Karen White: How many of your studio’s alumni studied dance in college or went on to professional dance careers?

“Artistry: Mystery vs Transparency” by Cheryl A. Ossola: Frederick Wiseman’s 1995 film Ballet is a unique perspective on the lives of artists, and in remembering it, I thought about the conversations teachers might have with students—conversations about artistry, how we perceive it, and what enhances or impairs those perceptions.

“Never Stop Dancing” by Tamsin Nutter: The hours I spend sitting at a desk make me feel creaky; a recent “big birthday” turned my thoughts to using my life stages wisely and well. Perhaps that’s why Keep Dancing, a lovely 2010 film portrait of then-90-year-old dance icons Marge Champion and Donald Saddler, has been on my mind.

Preschool dance education—it’s a frequent topic among studio owners and dance teachers. In fact, in my conversations with attendees at the DanceLife Teacher Conference and the International Dance Entrepreneurs Association conference, preschool dance seemed to come up more than any other topic.

“Offense, Not Defense”: A teacher’s life is one of lessons learned. Forgive me that cliché, but it’s true. Most of these lessons hit hard, but as you get older—if you are supple and reflective—you might find a trick or two among the bruises.

“Starting With Why”: I’ve just returned from three jam-packed days at the inaugural International Dance Entrepreneurs Association (I.D.E.A.) conference in Scottsdale, Arizona, where I, alongside several hundred dance studio owners and administrators, listened to speakers representing a range of school types, sizes, longevity, and business approaches. I learned a great deal from these mainstage sessions.

“Farewell to My Arabesque”: Recently I realized something: my arabesque has gone the way of the dodo. Extensions to the front and side? I’ve still got ’em, sort of. To the back? Eighteen inches off the floor—maybe.

“The Teachers in My Village”: It takes a village to raise a child, the proverb says. As I type these words, it’s the last week of school—recitals over, summer stretching ahead—but when they appear in print, it will be August and time to gear up for the fall. At both times in the year, my mind dwells on my village, and especially on the teachers.

“New Season’s Greetings”: This is the time of year when we welcome students back into the dance studio. The new school season is also an apt time to reflect, as Tamsin does above, on the value of teachers—and, I would add, support staff.

To that end, among the stories in this issue designed to help you make the most of the new season, you’ll find one about best practices for teacher evaluation, compensation, and pay increases, and another about studio owners who delegate tasks and programs—social media and marketing, children’s birthday parties, preschool programs, staff recognition, and more—to paid support staff positions.

“Not Exactly Billy Elliot”: As a boy growing up in the 1970s in a small, rural county that had one dance school and one male student—the owner’s son—I couldn’t imagine getting a dance education. Mine wasn’t an Appalachian coal mining town equivalent to the mid-1980s Northern England in Billy Elliot, but in retrospect it seems close: a pulpwood company town of unions, strikes, and factory chimneys pumping out smoke.

“Autism in Girls”: The story made so much sense that it was like reading news I already knew. “Autism—It’s Different in Girls” (Scientific American Mind, March 2016) looks at new research and suggests the reason boys diagnosed with autism far outnumber diagnosed girls (generally, 4 to 1) is that autism in girls doesn’t resemble autism in boys.

“Mindful Diversity”: In this issue we explore racial and cultural diversity in dance schools and why it’s important. You can read about that in the story, which starts on page 82; what I want to do here is make a pitch for diversity in a broader sense.

“Honor or Insult?”: Not long ago, a high school in Utah found itself in hot water over a drill team dance. Clad in Native American–themed costumes, feathers, and braided wigs, the students pounded their feet, spun, and raised their arms to a recording of drums and eagle screeches. One parent, a member of the Paiute tribe, felt her culture was being mocked, and her unhappy post led to an apology from the school. The number was withdrawn, never to be performed again.

“Put On Your Red Shoes . . .”: In 1983, David Bowie extended an invitation: “Let’s Dance.” The title track of his Grammy Award–nominated album provided the focus for the first mixtape I ever created, and the inspiration that same year to enter—and complete—a 12-hour dance marathon benefiting a housing project. But for me, and countless others in the 1970s and ’80s, Bowie offered much more than an invitation to dance. For LGBT youth, in particular, Bowie’s mere existence could be a lifeline.

“Just Dance”: The teacher’s dilemma was common, one about mean girls and ugly tweets and hurt feelings. “Help,” she cried out on Facebook. Thanks to team-building exercises and a party, the year had started out splendidly, but now she wondered what to do.

“Training Thinking Dancers”: Rehearsals had begun for my new musical theater competition number, but nothing was working. These girls had been with me for years—they trusted my “nobody’s gonna get this” themes, solved the puzzle of my patterns, could ace any acting improv. They were ready for a real challenge—or so I thought.

“When Helping Hurts”: Above, Karen says, “I became the parent who does the homework.” This mentality—the determination to not let a child fail in ways that are necessary for learning to be a responsible adult—is prevalent and nothing new. But it’s gaining ground in new ways.

“Season of Change”: Happy New Year! The flip of the calendar from December to January is one of my favorite times of the year, because it brings a sense of renewal and rejuvenation, the potential for growth, and the anticipation of the unknown. We at Dance Studio Life hope 2016 holds much goodness for you, both personally and professionally. With so much cruelty and so little compassion in the headlines in recent months, it’s our wish that everyone enters this new year with a goal of human kindness. All of us have the power to do good, whether in the form of personal interactions or via the soul-touching qualities of dance.

“Studio Havens”: At our current studio, the teachers are good and the atmosphere is easy. In the lobby, parents talk quietly on the couches and teenagers do homework or flurry past like March winds. Postcards and event notices emphasize that this space functions as a community’s hub; a bookshelf gives my little son and me something to do while my daughter takes class. Through gauzy curtains, I watch my girl skip, leap, and laugh in class. That’s why we’re here—that’s why we come back. As a mom, dancer, and human being, I appreciate being welcomed.

“Dance in Museums”: Choreographer William Forsythe has long kept a toe in the art world. He’s exhibited at the Louvre, Tate Modern, MoMA, and Venice and Whitney biennials, and now has a major show at Frankfurt’s Museum of Modern Art.

“A Farewell”: I was asked if I wanted to write a farewell or slip quietly into the sunset upon resigning as associate editor. I love sunsets, but I have also loved my job at Dance Studio Life magazine.

“Paris Opera Ballet, Virtually”: Many casual dance fans came to know Benjamin Millepied through his work on a film (Black Swan), so it’s fitting that Millepied—now director of Paris Opera Ballet—would turn a camera on his own dancers as a way of promoting them to the wider world.

“Recipe for a Better World”: On page 146 of this issue, you’ll find a story about the DanceLife Teacher Conference in which we tell you about many of the goings-on at this big event—but there’s one thing we didn’t touch on because it bears separate mention. It’s the joy and abandon, the sweat and exhilaration of the hundreds of dance teachers who threw themselves into all kinds of technique classes.

“Art Thieves”: Today we see cookie-cutter dances that borrow too heavily from music videos, TV dance shows, and other popular entertainment. And at Dance Studio Life, we hear from studio owners who complain that former employees or teachers at other schools stole their competition or recital choreography. I don’t mean the poachers borrowed a step, or the idea behind a step, or a story or theme that they then morphed into something of their own creation. I mean they stole the dance in its entirety and presented it as theirs. Judging by these school owners’ outrage—and my own experience in having my writing plagiarized—it’s obvious they didn’t feel flattered. They felt violated.

“Tough Times: Choosing the Team”: The lovefest that is recital is over and we meet in a dark corner of a café for the annual agony of choosing dancers for the team.

It’s more difficult than it seems. If it were only about technique it would be a snap. Perhaps we could pass out a test and set the cutoff at 77. Would parents be terribly upset if we put names in a hat? Would we?

Deafening cheers. Phones flashing in the dark auditorium like crazed fireflies. Other kindergarteners smiled—mine looked stricken with terror. Would she faint or throw up? Afterward, she sobbed with disappointment. It wasn’t fun, her stomach hurt, she didn’t expect the noisy dark and blinding lights. Then I remembered that she’d frozen before: as a wedding flower girl, walking the gauntlet of a semi-dark hall thronged with cheering strangers.

“Hold the Flash”: Enough with the pirouettes and the pyrotechnics.

Yes, we’re all impressed with double-digit pirouette counts. Triple sauts de basque, hummingbird-fast entrechats, reverse-twisting, leg-splitting steps you can’t even begin to name—all of those make us gasp. But every time I go online I’m bombarded with videos of dancers performing superhuman physical feats. And it’s becoming tiresome.

“Balance: Beyond the Classroom”: What I do believe in is this: striving for wholeness and balance in every aspect of life. When we do that, we learn where to focus our self-confidence so that it yields the greatest results. If you’re like me, working toward wholeness and balance is an ongoing process, difficult to master. But I’ll keep striving for both.

“Learning to Let Go”: Letting go is difficult. It takes time and wisdom (often someone else’s at first) to understand that we’re better off without those habits, that person, these ideas. Usually only after a period of doubt and mourning do we realize that leaving something has made room for something else.

“Then It Happens”: What happens when one of them is suddenly gone? Growing up is a dangerous activity. The kids come to class, joyous, new licenses in hand, and you make sure to camouflage the worry in your congratulations. Weeks and lessons pass, and you’re consumed with corrections they forgot or how to address fizzling energy levels.

“Points of Connection”: I’m writing this the day after Martin Luther King Jr. Day, at a time when world events make me wonder whether we, as individuals and societies and nations, will ever think of one another as equals. Serendipitously, I came across an interview with Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater artistic director Robert Battle in which he speaks about dance’s role as an equalizer.

“Embracing Mistakes”: The computing industry has figured out something we arts folks already knew: failure can be your teacher.

“Cultural Citizens”: In 2013, the great cellist Yo-Yo Ma put down his bow for an evening and picked up a sheaf of papers to give the Nancy Hanks Lecture on Arts and Public Policy at the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC. He called his speech “Art for Life’s Sake,” and though the art in reference was, of course, music, the parallel to dance is obvious. In subsequent speeches he has called on each of us to become a “cultural citizen” who uses art to better the world.

“Beginnings”: It’s January, a month named for Janus, the Roman god of doors and gates. And, because Janus is two-faced, gazing both ahead and back, he rules over beginnings and endings. …

“Catching a Wave, Dancing the Dance”: Catching a wave is like dancing the dance—when it’s caught you or you’ve caught it, nothing else exists. You’re in it, and you’re moving, and your body is a wondrous thing. …

“We ♥ Ballet”: Where were you on October 1? If you’re a ballet lover, you were probably glued to your computer, watching live feeds from five world-class companies: Bolshoi Ballet, The Royal Ballet, The Australian Ballet, The National Ballet of Canada, and San Francisco Ballet.

“Two Lumps, Please”: The words were out, and there was no taking them back. And three feet in front of me, two blue eyes were filling with tears.

“It’s All a Blur”: Once upon a time, I enjoyed watching dance. From recital queens to big-name ballerinas, amateur troupes to Ailey masters, it didn’t matter—if someone was willing to move her body to music, I enjoyed it.

“Looking Out, Not Looking In”: The movie Boyhood is a fictional depiction of a boy, Mason, and his family as they traverse 12 years of his childhood. Remarkably, the film was shot over the course of 12 actual years, allowing us to observe time passing for the characters while the actors mature in real time.

“Remembering Robin”: Robin Williams wasn’t a dancer. Not officially, anyway. During an interview on Inside the Actors Studio, he mentioned taking class with Anna Sokolow at Juilliard; perhaps he trained with others too. Regardless, this was a man who could move—who, as my colleague Lisa Okuhn put it, was a “wildly physical performer. His brilliance and energy took over his body, almost as if he was possessed.”

“Not Alone”: College—or launching a dance career—is tough. Kids can feel overwhelmed to the point of giving up—dropping out, succumbing to despair, or worse. Let’s make sure they know there will always be someone who listens and understands, who values what they have to say, who doesn’t expect constant perfection, who will pick them up and dust them off. Let’s make sure they know they’re not alone.

“Killing It”: And that’s the point. The boys were able to perform well not because they’ve had years of dance training (I assume), but because they got it. If they hadn’t performed with intent and commitment (not to mention expressions that ranged from intentionally blank to starry-eyed to open-mouthed delirium), this skit would have been painful to watch instead of laugh-out-loud funny.

“Missing It”: Comedy is tough, I tell my students. We have to display technique while taking a figurative pie in the face. We can’t break character. We have to trust one another. Even if we do all that, and do it well, comedy is precarious. One man’s Adam Sandler movie is another man’s headache.